Games are like a huge television set. When we sit in front of the screen, we act as directors and from all the signals that are being broadcast at any given moment and to which we have access thanks to the multi-channels, we choose one to focus our attention. Everyone has their preferences, but there are certain moments when it seems that all the stages are dark except one. The audience is very fragmented, and these moments when something monopolizes the spotlight are few and far between. On the fourth day of competition, one of them arrived in Paris. The most likely epilogue of one of the great sporting rivalries of our times.
For a rivalry to take hold, it takes time, equality, talent, different ways of seeing, playing and even living. And of course, a history of confrontations that feeds back into it. Borg versus McEnroe. Two extraordinary competitive talents. And that was where the similarities ended. Ice versus the volcano, method and repetition versus inspiration, discretion on one side, the sought-after provocation on the other, Swedish sobriety versus American disinhibition. Magic versus Bird. Two characters so charismatic that they overflow the limits of the court. A black man and a white man. The east, Boston, versus the west, Los Angeles. The show versus the desired anonymity. The seductive smile versus the taciturn rural farmer. Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. Are they from the same planet? Senna and Prost.
It is not easy to construct a story of the caliber that Rafa and Nole have written, match after match (so many years of following them give you the right to call them by their first name).
But the matter is more important because it is impossible to talk about these two figures without taking into account the third leg, named Roger Federer. Together they turned the screw and starred in the mother of all rivalries. A three-way perfection. The similarities between Nadal, Federer and Djokovic are limited to one: their inexhaustible competitive ferocity that neither age, injuries or the surfeit of successes diminished. The rest, personally and professionally, are like water and oil, impossible to mix. However, if we put them together in a single entity, we would have the perfect player. Elegant, forceful, tireless, dominating all the shots, controlling any situation, capable of getting up again as many times as necessary. For almost two decades we have seen them win a lot and lose little, smile and cry, get injured and recover, get along and have their fights. Between the three of them they strengthened each other, becoming better while they shared almost exclusively the big tournaments. And above all, they have made us enjoy their greatness on the track, so much so that we will never be able to thank them enough.
Federer left us orphaned some time ago, and Rafa has been struggling with his physique for the same amount of time, but this wonderful rivalry could not end without a final chapter in the best possible scenario, the Olympic Games on the courts of Roland Garros. Djokovic won, which did not surprise anyone, and although at times the match and result were too painful for Nadal and his supporters, the comeback in the second set, although ultimately sterile, at least dignified the one who did not deserve to end up humiliated.
To recover a little, I turn to my favourite sport among sports that are not my favourites. Table tennis. Mixed semi-finals between China and Korea. Crowded and noisy arena. I stay glued while the spectacular points happen. Most of them start very softly, almost skimming the net, but suddenly, as if it were F1, the ball accelerates in the blink of an eye and a few tremendous hits follow one another at breakneck speed with the players further and further away from the table. Hypnotic. I can’t find any difference between the performance of the women and that of the men. They are just as electric, they move as fast as the men and hit it with the same power. Total parity. I want to quit, but something prevents me and I end up taking six sets… Ah, China won. And I’m having such a good time.
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